Master Theroa

"You mean most first-year spells actually need incantations?"

Sydney blinked at him. "Wait… you don't use incantations? At all?"

Katsu shook his head, almost bored. "No. Incantations slow you down. Just give your opponent a free shot."

She stared, incredulous.

"But that's what shielding spells are for. You're supposed to chant, then block while you cast. Nobody expects you to do magic silently—not unless you're… well, advanced. How long have you been casting without words?"

He tilted his head, rolling a kink from his neck. "Since I started. I was five."

A beat.

Sydney gaped. "You started at five?"

Katsu raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to smile. "Is that weird?" His sigh said he'd heard this before.

She just stared, then shook her head in disbelief. "Yeah, actually. At Eversail, nobody learns advanced magic until at least eleven. You said your father was a general, right?"

"Mmhm."

Sydney hesitated, voice softening. "Ever think… maybe he wasn't just raising a son, but training a soldier?"

"…Sydney—"

"Katsu." Her gaze was steady, honest, and sharper than fire. "You're amazing. Seriously. A kid only a little older than me, and you're pulling off things I won't be able to manage for another year—if ever."

She paused, searching his face.

"But doesn't that ever feel… sad to you? I mean, you spent your childhood chopping wood and hunting to survive. Did you ever actually get to be a child? Not just by age, but in spirit. Did you get to play, or just… be?"

Katsu looked away, her words digging deeper than he expected.

"You talk like my mother used to,"

He said quietly, voice gentler now.

Sydney gave a sad little smile.

"Someone needed to say it. Katsu, do you even have a dream for yourself? A future you want? Or are you just following whatever path was laid in front of you, doing what everyone expects?"

He swallowed, his neutral expression cracking just a little vulnerability flickering across his eyes.

"…I don't know,"

Katsu admitted.

"I think… I'm still figuring that out."

—————

Katsu drifted through halls he'd never bothered to explore, hands buried in his pockets, steps echoing with a slow reluctance.

He paused outside a door, uncertain if he'd even found the right room.

He pushed it open and nearly laughed.

No desks. No blackboard. Just sky.

The door was a frame for open air, the world beyond dropping straight into sunlight and nothingness, rooftops and distant fields tilting dizzy far below.

He stared at the void, wind tugging at his jacket, chest tightening. "...What the hell is this?"

The words came out quieter than he meant.

A shadow slid beside him.

The Leviathan appeared with a practiced grace, her head resting lightly on his shoulder, a sly smile curving her lips.

She watched him, not the drop, her gaze knowing and warm. "A test…" she murmured, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Katsu didn't step back, but he didn't move forward either. "For what?" he said, voice thin as thread.

She leaned in, her tone silk-soft, but her eyes suddenly grave.

"To test your courage, sweetheart."

He eyed the empty space warily, fingers flexing at his sides, knuckles pale with tension.

"I'm not comfortable with walking out into the sky."

The Leviathan didn't tease. She searched his face, all laughter faded. Her expression was pure sincerity. Earnest, almost tender.

"Growth doesn't come from comfort, Katsu. Only from stepping somewhere you don't want to be. When you hate what's in front of you, you don't freeze. You act. That's what kings do, isn't it?"

Katsu held her gaze, silence heavy between them. For a moment, he didn't look away.

He didn't answer, but his eyes softened, and his shoulders dropped. Just a little.

The fear was still there, but he wasn't shrinking from it. He finally exhaled, a breath fogging the cold air between them.

"I told you not to come out unless I asked."

She grinned, quick and shameless, gold eyes lighting up. "You don't tell me what to do."

He snorted, almost fond despite himself.

Then, without another word, he flicked her nose, stepped up to the doorframe, and tipped forward.

Falling out into nothing.

Wind tore at him, cold and wild, as gravity pulled him down. The Academy blurred past.

Then, in a heartbeat, he was jerked upward, caught by invisible force.

His feet found ground. Solid, unexpected.

He landed in a sunlit room high above the world.

The ceiling arched with pale stone, clouds drifting past the windows.

Upperclassmen turned, silent and curious, measuring him with calm, distant eyes.

A tall woman with hair the color of midnight stepped forward, voice resonant and clear.

"Welcome, young Wizard. I am Master Theroa. Take your pick—any seat will do."

Katsu drew a slow breath, heart still pounding, and made his way inside.

One foot in the unknown, but lighter than before.

He moved down the aisle, each step echoing quietly through the high-ceilinged room.

Feeling the eyes of upperclassmen tracking him, curiosity mingled with the kind of calculation he'd come to expect at the Academy.

No one spoke. They simply watched.

Katsu slid into a seat at the very back.

Half in shadow, spine straight, gaze steady.

The chair was cold beneath him, the stone floor humming with the lingering pulse of magic from the test that brought him here.

He let his bag drop at his feet, exhaling slow, shoulders loosening as the tension of the fall finally bled away. From this vantage, the world felt both distant and clear.

Clouds drifting beyond the windows, the gentle creak of old wood, the subtle energy of students who belonged here.

Katsu sat quietly, hands folded in his lap, letting himself adjust to this new altitude.

Physically and otherwise.

The Leviathan appeared beside him.

She smiled. Her eyes a flame, much hotter than hell. Yet the opposite of a scorching hot desert.

"Are you worried?"

The Leviathan asked

"Yes, of course I am."

"Mmm."

"... What's that for?"

"You ask too many questions."